The Stone Lily
by Gecco
Summary: A mysterious chest is found in the ruins of Eregion and a secret of the late smith Celebrimbor is revealed.


Title: "The Stone Lily"

Author: Ro

Warnings: Some angst and deals with some racial intolerance.

Disclaimer: I'm not making any profit off this. With the exception of a few of the original characters, all characters belong to J.R.R. Tolkien (who's probably spinning in his grave as we speak).

Summary: A mysterious chest is found in the ruins of Eregion and a shocking secret about the late Smith Celebrimbor is revealed.

Notes: This story takes place after the great Rings have been forged and the destruction of Eregion, but before the Dwarves accidentally awake the Balrog.

More notes: This is my first Silmarillion based fic and I've probably screwed up some dates, so please bare with me. This is also unbeta-ed, so plenty of errors.

* * *

"_Everything has its beauty, but not everyone sees it._" (The Twelve Kindomes, Chapter Four)

* * *

What was left of the once beautiful city of Eregion lay in overgrown ruin. The sounds of battle long over, the screams of rage and pain replaced by the eerie whistling of the wind, the clash of swords and axes now silent. The quiet land slowly recovering from the deep scars inflicted by evil, the memory of all those lost and of the terrible things that had been set in motion. Sauron's deception had been uncovered and the Great Rings of power, their true purpose revealed. The sight of Sauron's terrible standard, Celebrimbor's bloody and ravaged body held aloft for all to see, still fresh in the minds of all who had seen it.

Yet that had been many years ago, but a blink of an eye to an Elf, yet a lifetime to a Man. Now the land was covered once again in green, the blood and gore that had been spilt those years ago had enriched the soil and Arda had drank deep of these who had died, enfolding them in her earthen embrace. Now the land was abloom in flowers and grass, the forest tall and lush in the valley before the great stone gates of Khazad-dum.

It was however, by accident, in the sad ruins of the once sprawling city, that two curious young Dwarves made an unusual find. A heavy silver inlayed and wooden chest was discovered carefully hidden under the remains of the cracked and burned stone floor of what had once been Celebrimbor's beloved workshop. The mysterious chest with its heavy mithril lock had lay in a secret chamber under the earth all those years, safely hidden from Sauron and the following fire and destruction. Until a careless step had sent a unwary young Dwarf tumbling through the old floor to the chamber beneath. The two Dwarves immediately brought back their find to Moria and it was there that it was brought before Durin, Lord of Khazad-dum.

Durin who had reluctantly allowed his people to begin to delve under Barazinbar, his kingdom needing the steady import of food and goods, that was only guarantied by Moria's steady export of iron and various metals. Along with the weapons, armor and other such things they were known for. But being the only steady and viable place to find true-silver, the demand for mithril had become staggering. In the end the Dwarves had no choice but to begin to dig deeper then they had ever intended to abide the ravenous demand for the rare and precious metal that the Elves so loved and Lords of Men demanded of their weapons, armor and jewelry. Upon seeing it the Dwarf King immediately recognized the chest as Elven make and clearly property of the late Lord Khalebrimbur, the Silver Hand they called him. Being a wise and honorable being, he ordered that the mysterious chest remain sealed, its contents undisturbed. And since Khalebrimur had been an honored Dwarf-friend and Master craftsman, that it should be returned to his people.

So it was that the mysterious chest traveled through the grand and cavernous halls of Khazad-dum to find its way through the towering golden trees of Lothlorien. When the chest's journey was finally at a end, it sat high up in one of the large talons used to house imported goods in one of the massive Mallern trees of that Cerin Amroth was built upon. There it stayed for a day and a night, patiently awaiting to be opened.

* * *

Since the strange and dusty chest had been found in the ruins of Eregion and the betrayal of Sauron was still fresh in all their minds. It was the duty of one of the court advisors and a pair of armed guards to make sure that whatever the chest contained was safe before it was to be brought before the Lady and Lord.

It was in the light of a new day that the thick lock was broken by a powerful strike from one of the guards swords and the heavy lid was slowly lifted and the treasure that lay within was revealed.

The tall pale haired advisor, who was known by the name of Tolgalen knelt before the chest feeling a little disappointed as he balanced on the balls of his narrow feet. The two cautious Elven guards still flanking him, awaiting the older Elf's command. However the mysterious chest held no deadly surprise, nor was it filled with dazzling jewels or mithril ingots, and with the exceptions of a few pieces of stunning jewelry by the late Smith, the chest held but a few modest things. A few scrolls and bound parchments, several finished and intricate pieces of jewelry, a large stained and ripped journal and what was clearly a painting that had been carefully wrapped in a shimmering silken sheet.

With an annoyed scowl on his angular face Tolgalen waved the two guards away, seeing that there was no danger the armed Elves took positions by the door as the slender advisor began examining the contents of the chest. Reaching in, Tolgalen snapped the wax seal and opened one of the scrolls and looked it over, seeing nothing but hurried, almost illegible notes and various odd diagrams. With furrowed brows he re-rolled the scrolls before turning his attention to the next item.

Which was the jewelry. His mouth unconsciously dropping open in awe as he picked up one of the dazzling necklaces from its bed of velvet. Made of shining star sapphires and mithril, it was strung together like intricate strands of spider webbing, it was one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen, Celebrimbor's wondrous skill shown in in its glory. With care he set the pieces down then flipped through some of the stained parchments as well as the large leather-bound journal, which proved to be a wondrous find indeed. For it was filled with notes and wondrous sketches of people, creatures and places around Middle-earth. Their were also intricate drawings and diagrams of various projects, works in progress and things the late smith had never managed to get to, along with pages upon pages of fantastical ideas and musings. Also there were incredible coal drawings of the building of Eregion and the great West-Gate of Moria within, even the designs for all the great Rings were there, even some that had never been made.

This truly was a treasure beyond all measure and no doubt Sauron would have given anything to have gotten his blood covered claws on it. Putting the heavy journal reverently down Tolgalen sent a quick 'thank you' to the Valar for Celebrimbor's foresight to hid this treasure trove before Eregion fell.

Unable to contain his curiosity Tolgalen then lifted out the mysterious covered painting and began to carefully unwrap the green material from it. What could this painting possibly be of that the greatest Smith of Eregion would clearly covet it so? Why hide a painting with such valuable and personal treasures?

Finally the painting was revealed and all Tolgalen could do was gasp, his grey eyes going wide in shock at what he held. The guards still standing by the door could not see what he looked at, but they watched in interest when they heard the tall advisor's strangled gasp, seeing the sudden tension in the advisor's slender back.

Looking at the painting it was now perfectly clear to him why Celebrimbor had considered this painting so valuable. With some difficulty he managed to pull his gaze from the compelling image that seem to pull at his very being, with a quick internal shake Tolgalen hurriedly rewrapped the painting in the green material, his manner greatly agitated.

The two guards silently watched him get to his feet and hurriedly go about setting the items on a nearby table, lastly placing the hastily covered painting carefully propped up on the table as well. With that the tall pale-haired Elf then hurried from the room, his gray and blue robes swirling around behind him like wings as he all but ran to the Lady and Lords chambers to tell them of his findings. Leaving the confused guards to wonder at the advisor's sudden agitation and the mysterious items that had been pulled from the dusty old chest.

It was an hour later, after conferring with some of his fellows of the court, that Tolgalen made his way to the main flet that the Lord and Lady of Lothelorien used to greet, as well as entertain guests. As he reached the audience chamber he hardly noticed the silent and armed Galadhrim guards standing to either side of the entrance, their cool grey cloaks about their shoulders, their swords and bows within a seconds reach. Inside the Lord and Lady were having a entertaining discussion of something involving the petty matters of Men that squabbled over trade rights to their western border with a group of their visiting guests, some from as faraway as the Grey Havens. All of them pale and elegant in their flowing robes and gowns of various colors, all of them standing or gracefully lounging on low couches like a flock of colorful birds.

Amongst them he noticed, with some trepidation, the dark-haired Lady Linredhel. She was here to visit for a time amongst the sheltering Mallorns, as well as to act in the interest of the distant Lindon court. At the moment she stood by one of the vaulted windows, clad in dazzling gown of blue, her ivory like hands slipping out of the long sleeves as she held a silver goblet of wine and talked adamantly with another Elf. She had originally been of King Thingol's court, but was able to flee before Doriath's final destruction at the hands of Feanor's sons. Tolgalen also saw a few other individuals gathered there that would be less then pleased at his finding, and that was not including Lord Celeborn's reaction.

With a deep breath he glided over to stand next to the low couch where his tall silver-haired Lord and his elegant Lady lounged as they listened to a story one of their guests was telling. Celeborn clad in rich robes of warm grey and deep blues, while Galadriel was clothed in a long gown of dazzling white and embroidered silver, her glorious hair cascading down her shoulders in golden waves.

"Pardon the intrusion, my Lord. But the strange chest the Naugrim from Moria sent has been opened and deemed safe for your viewing. They spoke true, it most assuredly was Lord Celebrimbor's," he explained, as Celeborn tilted his head to him while Galadriel and the various guests pretended not to listen in.

"Please, come and see. I think you will find what it held most interesting. There is also a painting…" he trailed off.

Both the Lord and Lady picked up on his nervous manner, but said nothing, deciding to see for themselves.

"And?" Celeborn prompted after a long pause, seeing that their advisor seem to have something else to say.

"I think it best you see for yourself my Lord," Tolgalen said apologetically, clearly unwilling to say more.

Needless to say, Galadriel and all those who had heard him were all the more intrigued now, even a few like the Lady Linredhel, who's eyes narrowed at the late Smith's name in remembered disapproval.

"Well… shall we see what Tolgalen has discovered?" Lord Celeborn asked the others as he rose to his feet, amusement on his pale angular features. Not a moment later Galadriel was at his side, a smile on her lips, more eager then all in the room to see what the chest contained. And with the exception of a few who graciously declined the invitation, most joined them. Galadriel's loyal and ever present ladies-in-waiting silently following, their matching light grey gowns trailing behind them.

It was not long after that the group had glided into the smaller room at a sedate pace, curious to see what things the late Smith had hidden away. The dusty chest still sat on the floor, it's thick lid thrown back, but the objects that had been found within had been placed on a nearby table. Not waiting Galadriel stepped away from her husband's side and went to the table, first picking up the heavy journal.

Upon her slim finger Nenya seem to stir, its energy seeming to ripple in pleasure at being near it's maker's things. To her ears its seemed as if soft whispers of long ago voices teased at the cusp of her hearing as she looked through the journal, promising herself that she would sit down and read it as soon as time allowed.

Celeborn and a few of the other guests had also began to look at the various objects, at the moment the tall silver-haired Elf looked over one of the scrolls. There was a delighted gasp as Lady Linredhel held one of the necklaces, a purple and gold one, as two other Elven ladies cooed over it as she held it to her long pale neck and asked what they thought. A lanky Elf clad in grey robes, who was visiting from Rivendell by the name of Erestor had struck up a debate with a few others over some diagrams and notes on a few of the stained parchments. While the others milled about and talked with one another, more interested in the sunny day outside that the findings of the trunk.

An while Galadriel picked up and looked over all the various objects with great interest, genuinely fascinated over the scrolls and parchments, unable to hide her utter delight with the notes and drawings. She was unerringly drawn to the mysterious covered painting propped up at the far end of the table seeming overlooked by the others.

"Tolgalen, if you would," she asked in her melodious voice as she reluctantly set the journal down again. With Celeborn at her side and the others now gathered to see, she gracefully motioned for their advisor to unveil the painting.

With a respectful bow and a quick pray to the Valar, he steeped stiffly forward and carefully unwrapped the painting, leaving the shimmering green material to pool at the bottom of the intricate wood and silver frame.

Then he stepped solemnly back, the painting's hidden mysteries now fully revealed to those gathered. The silence was defining in the airy and sun filled room for non could speak, only the silvery tinkling of wind chimes and the singing of birds outside to be heard as warm pools of sunlight slowly inched across the floor.

The obvious care and skill put into it was amazing to see, the subject looking as if it would move and breath at any moment. Not many knew, except the few who had truly known him, was that Celebrimbor had a gift for painting as well as smith-craft. Though he rarely used a brush, preferring metal, jewels and mithril instead.

Like a secret window onto a quiet moment, the painting rang of a aching and deep love for the subject shown. The very sight of it flew in the face of any arrogance and prejudice of those to look upon it. For if one truly believed all the words that past the lips of the Elves, they would be at an utter loss if they were to gaze upon this painting.

The colors were sumptuous, the lighting and shadows flawless, the composition exquisite. Non in the room had seen anything like it, it was a masterpiece of art. It was entrancing, it was beautiful…

"Its obscene!" hissed Lady Linredhel, shattering the tense silence as she raised a delicate pale hand to her mouth. She took a step back, her luminous grey eyes looking upon the canvas with utter disgust and outrage.

"It's a perversion!" Cried another, while some of the others winced or averted their gaze.

Celeborn said nothing as he stood there as tense as a strung bow, glaring angrily at the painting, at his side Galadriel simply stood there gazing serenely upon the canvas with her dazzling and unfathomable eyes. Unnoticed by all, a knowing and rather pleased smile threatened to curl her coral lips as she put a soothing hand upon her husband's tense arm. She had known Celebrimbor and had accounted the Smith as a friend and now some of her own private musing had unequivocally been proven this day. The others in the room looked upon the painting in open shock or with silent inscrutable faces, their eyes filled with their own troubled thoughts.

As wonderful as the painting was and all that it clearly represented. For many it was simply easier to remain ignorant, many simply not wanting to look upon their own bigotries or be forced to look upon the world at large in an untainted light. Unwilling to leave their secure worlds of black and white, not wanting to think beyond their own perceived perfection and standing… And for others still it was the destructive and lowsome claws of hate that caused their ire and blindness.

"Burn this foul creation!" Linredhel screamed, her beautiful face flushed as she looked around at those gathered. "Destroy it!"

Yet non seemed able to move, while others simply turned their surprised gaze to her.

It was hate and remembered pain that finally compelled Lady Linredhel to pull a dagger from one of her long volumous sleeves when non did as she demanded. In a self-righteous rage she flew to destroy this hideous creation herself, her wine red lips curled in a feral snarl. Her sharp knife lifted, prepared to descend upon the canvas, she would destroy this abomination, this bitter and disgusting lie! And non moved to stop her. Save one.

She gave a cry of shock and surprise when her thin wrist was suddenly seized in a crushing grip of iron before she could strike.

She stood there, trembling in her rage and shock, her arm still held aloft, looking upon Finarfin's daughter with eyes full of betrayal and remembered agony. Galadriel simply looked back at her with unreadable eyes that seemed to sear into the smaller Elf's very being like an arrow. Her warning was clear, this painting was not to be harmed. No matter what.

Her grip tightened and Linredhel gave a wince, her long fingers reluctantly dropping her knife where it clattered to the floor.

"Destroy it!" Linredhel finnaly demand after a long terrible silence, her voice almost a plea, her eyes now full of unshed tears. At this there were several agreeing murmurs from some of the others that watched what was taking place.

But Galadriel paid them no mind. She felt honest sympathy for Linredhel, she knew the source of her pain, but no matter what had happened in her past, there was no excuse for what she wanted to do now. It was not her, nor anyone's place to cast such harsh judgments.

"No. It is not our place to destroy," Galadriel said simply, her silvery voice having no inflection. With that she released Linredhel's arm and watched the shorter Elf step wearily back.

"You would sully his name more?" Someone else demanded

"His name is already stained, like his father and Grandfather before him! If it was found out that Celebrimbor had taken one of those… creatures to his bed?" gray-clad Erestor hissed, stepping forward. But a warning look from the golden-haired Lady's flashing eyes quickly quelled his and other's ire.

"This chest and all the contents within are now in my care. It will remain here, kept safe and hidden until the time it can be returned to it's proper owner." She said in a voice now filled with power, there was simply no room for discussion in this matter. For she, though a great and elegant Lady, was also the most powerful warrior here and non save her mate could hope to match her in battle. And yet, though they did not speak as they stood resolutely by one another, it was clear by the look in Celeborn's ice cold gaze that the Lord and Lady of Lothorien were not of one mind in this matter.

With a final seething look at the painting, angry tears trailing unnoticed down her face, the Lady Linredhel fled from the room, her long blue gown hissing across the polished wooden floor. Galadriel quietly watched as most of their guests followed in her wake in silent agreement. Leaving only she, her ladies-in-waiting, Celeborn, a nervous looking Tolgalen and the stoic guards.

It was then that the remaining beings in the room once again turned their gazes to the painting, many with greatly conflicting feelings for this masterpiece. Many feeling as if the subject in Celebrimbor's painting seemed to be silently watching them in turn. Outside a warm breeze brought with it the gentle ringing of wind chimes and faint whispers from a hidden past.

Looking back at them over his shoulder with large amethyst colored eyes was the portrait of a onyx-haired Dwarf. He knelt upon a rumpled bed, his feet tucked under him, the warm glow of morning illuminating his golden skin, so unlike their own pale Elven flesh. This strange yet fair creature was no warrior or laborer, and while clearly male and muscular, his build was more delicate then most of his hardworking kind. No ounce of fat could be seen on this strong supine body. A heavy and glossy fall of black fell over smooth shoulders, as a neat and silky beard of the same color framed the Dwarf's smooth heart-shaped face, a face that was so different then their own Elven ideal. With it's small nose, strong jaw and large cat-like eyes. Sinful plump lips moist and swollen, tan skin still aglow in the aftermath of a heated and taboo encounter.

Down his smooth back a delicate tattoo of stylized fire crawled along his spine to curl teasingly at the top of one firm buttock. Tangled around his strong legs and partly covering his nudity was a silken green sheet, clearly the same green material the painting had been wrapped in. And in one large hand he delicately held a simple white lily, some droplets of due to be seen sparkling like diamonds upon it's petals.

Instead of looking terribly out of place in the Dwarf's strong calloused fingers, the blossom only highlighted the exotic beauty of this strange being, adding a touch of demure vulnerability to this compelling painting. An enchanted moment in time, captured forever by a one of the greatest Elven smiths to walk arda. At the bottom corner of the painting, written in Celebrimbor's short side sweeping hand was simply written; "Narvi, My beloved Stone Lily"

The image was haunting. To gaze upon it was to feel the tightness in ones chest, to be drawn into that moment in time. To feel the want to reach out and touch the lovely being on the bed, to cast aside caution and embrace what was forbidden.

In those smoldering amethyst eyes, that glittered with a quiet wisdom and open curiosity, one was struck by the obvious love shining in their fiery depths. The story of this painting was clear.

For all his great deeds and obsessive work, in the end it was not any powerful ring he could have forged or any other such creation that Celebrimbor had treasured most.

In the end, the most treasured secret of his heart was revealed and it was the love of a creature deemed by their kind as foul and unlovely. Yet this being's exotic beauty and loveliness could not be denied.

Celebrimbor's beloved Stone Lily…

* * *

It was late into the evening when the Lord and Lady of Lothlorien finally retired to their airy and gilded rooms. Many of their advisors and visiting guests finally having agreed that the contents of the late Celebrimbor's chest was best left in Lord Celeborn and Galadriel's keeping for the time being. 

It was no surprise after that evenings banquet that the Lady Linredhel announced that she would be leaving the following day for Lindon, needing to take care of an important matter that had suddenly arisen. Galadriel had made sure that Celebrimbor's things where replaced back in the heavy chest and relocked, then placed within Cerin Amroth's hidden treasury.

At the moment the tall golden-haired Lady watched her equally tall and silver-haired mate begin to pace their room as she shut the door to their cambers.

"By the Valar! The madness of Feanor's line has no end! Celebrimbor was always so strange…on edge," Celeborn said aloud to himself. "Always trying to make up for the deeds of his father," he said with a sad shake of his head. He personally had not liked the large smith, but that did not mean he did not admire and pity him at the same time.

"As for Narvi, he was….was…was a Naugrim!" he finished, throwing an elegant hand up. Clearly at a loss for anything else to say, while looking every bit the vexed ruler as he brooded, shimmering gray cloak about his shoulders like morning mist.

"Why, my wise husband. You act as if they are the first?" Galadriel said in a bemused tone, watching as the silver-haired Elf continued to pace the room.

"Are they not?" Celeborn said shortly, stopping and turning her way. He was not in the mood for his wife's riddles and mental play, especially after so trying a day.

"No. They are not," she answered with a smile, amused at her husband's naivety.

Did he not remember meeting Narvi at Eregion those long years back with their daughter, Celebrian? Did he truly not see the way Celebrimbor was always near, so protective of the Dwarven stone-wright. All the time they spent together, the smoldering looks, the subtle touches. She had counted both beings as friends and could remember watching the broad shouldered Elf's happiness around the soft-spoken and exotic looking Dwarf. Both unusual for their kind, the dark-haired Celebrimbor being rather tall and muscular by Elvish standards, while Narvi was slender and refined. The large Ring maker looking almost clumsy and hulkish when around the quiet and almost delicate seeming Dwarf. The gray-eyed Celebrimbor being a bit terse and wound-up, always seeming to be fiddling with something. The amethyst-eyed Narvi being the calmer and more thoughtful of the two, always having a serene grace about him.

But then again she knew perfectly well why her husband and many others would never even idle to think such a thing. Silently she glided over to their large shared bed and removed her shimmered white cloak before turning again to her troubled mate.

"They say Eol loved their kind like no Elf before him and they in turn honored him as near kin. There are even hushed whispers that he loved one most in particular…" she said in a teasing voice, watching him shoot her a disbelieving look.

Eol, the Dark Elf, all the Eldar knew the stories of his strangeness and villainy, as well as his cursed offspring Maeglin. Turgon's kin and followers had made sure to spread word of his dark deeds.

"Poor Eol. Though his heart belonged to one of Aule's children, he too thought it forbidden and so was unwilling to face the stigma of such a union. An Elf can not lay with a Dwarf, it is simply not done!" she said in a serious tone, even though it was clear she did not agree.

"So he stayed in those dark woods, and denied his heart. His heart wounded and yearning, to slowly become tainted. Until Turgon's foolish sister wandered into his dark forest. In she he thought he found the proper Elven bride, blocking out the true desires of his heart- and for a while he was able to fool himself. How he latched onto her in such loneliness and desperation… But in the end the cracks grew and his heart only became more twisted as his "proper" Elven love and child became more distant. Such a terrible blow, how they openly shunned he and all he loved."

"I wonder what tragedies could have been averted if Eol, so long ago had simply listened to his heart? Imagine Aredhel free and no Maeglin," She said with a touch of sad wistfulness as she ran her long fingers over the smooth twisted wood of one of the tall posts of their bed before her mood lightened again. "Even if Eol had acted upon his heart, I truly doubt he would have been the first." Celeborn remained quiet as she continued to muse aloud.

"I have always wondered at Lord Cirdan's lush beard, how strange that he is the only one of the Eldar to have ever been able to grow one. There is also his fascinating single mindedness when he is building one of his beloved ships, and his hands. Never have I seen one of our kind with so large and calloused hands, not even Celebrimbor had such hands…" Seeing the look of horror that flashed over her husband's face, she gave a merry laugh, her smooth voice like silver bells.

"First or not, I pray that such'unnatural' perversions have ended with Celebrimbor!" Celeborn hissed in annoyance, not sharing his love's amusement on this matter. This talk was making him very uncomfortable. It was no secret, he had no love for the Naugrim.

They were a race of contradictions. It was alright to look down on them and think of them as slow, ugly and lowly creatures. But only a truly foolish being actually believed it. He had seen what their kind were capable of and though the tragedy of Doriath to be long pastall those responsible long since dead. Knowing all those of Khazad-dum and other Dwarf cities to be innocent of any wrong doing. In his mind he knew… But the bitterness in his heart remained.

He had not expected an answer, but was not surprised when Finarfin's daughter spoke again.

"No. They will most assuredly not be the last…" she said in a mysterious voice, her manner becoming more serious as her dazzling eyes seemed to watch something faraway that only she could see, unconsciously rubbing Nenya upon her finger.

Celeborn glanced sharply at her, but said nothing before moving gracefully across the room to sit at the sill of one of the windows. The golden grandeur of Lothlorien framed by the large window as a soothing breeze brought with it the smell of blooming flowers and the soft chant of Elven singing. He brooded silently over her words, taking no notice as she came up behind him, troubled by his own thoughts and bitter memories of Doriath, his silver hair shinning in the moonlight like water.

As if reading his mind, which he mused was probably not far from the truth, she quietly spoke again, laying a loving hand upon his shoulder. Automatically he reached up and clapped her hand in turn.

"Who are we to deem what is wrong or rightwhat is a perversion? Who are we to deny love, no matter how strange we think it?" she softly demanded, as she looked over his shoulder at the trees. "As much as we wish to lay blame upon their kind. We Elves have our own terrible crimes... How many would spit at our feet. How many would look upon a union with a stained Kinslayer and turn away in disgust?"

In the chamber all was quiet as Galadriel stood behind her husband, her slim pale hand on his tense shoulder, his equally pale hand over hers. No words were necessary as they stood there, the both of them gazing out at their kingdom.

Tolerance…It's a good thing…

This fic is dedicated to Christina Roberts. Artist, photographer, colorist, potter and all around bud


End file.
